


My blue rose

by SilentRain91



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Anya keeps giving Clarke a rose each morning, Anya thinks Clarke doesn't know, Clanya oneshot, Clarke does know, F/F, because I began to ship them a bit, each rose means something
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-07-15 11:34:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7220680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilentRain91/pseuds/SilentRain91
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anya sits down and watches as Clarke twirls the rose between her fingertips. Each rose holds a special meaning. She has been giving Clarke a rose every morning, as well as making breakfast.</p><p>“I like this rose. It’s beautiful, as always.” Clarke’s eyes sparkle and she meets Anya’s eyes. “Thank you, for breakfast and for this rose.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	My blue rose

Clarke rubs her eyes as she enters the kitchen. The smell of pancakes greets her nostrils. “Good morning, Anya.” She smiles at her best friend.

“Good morning, Clarke.”

Clarke licks her lips. “Baking pancakes again, I see.”

“I know that they’re your favorite.” Anya always puts in an extra effort for Clarke. They’re close like that. She takes a tray out of one of the cupboards.

Clarke smiles as Anya places a tray on the kitchen table in front of her. There’s a plate with pancakes on the tray and a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. What catches her eyes the most, though, is the rose that’s on the tray. Anya always places a rose on her tray. It seems to be a daily routine.

Anya sits down and watches as Clarke twirls the rose between her fingertips. Each rose holds a special meaning. She has been giving Clarke a rose every morning, as well as making breakfast.

“I like this rose. It’s beautiful, as always.” Clarke’s eyes sparkle and she meets Anya’s eyes. “Thank you, for breakfast and for this rose.”

Anya smiles at Clarke. Her friend always responds the same, thanking her for breakfast and for the rose. She really does hope Clarke likes roses. There is a message hidden behind each rose, but she doesn’t tell her friend that. It’s her secret way of sharing certain feelings which she doesn’t dare to say out loud. Talking about feelings is difficult and she has no idea how Clarke would react.

Anya met Clarke through Lexa. Back then she didn’t think they would become friends, but they did, amazingly so. Living together is something she definitely didn’t expect. Though all of that is nothing compared to the one thing she really didn’t expect to happen. That one thing is that she has been developing feelings for Clarke. She can’t help it.

Clarke is still smiling, that one smile that’s so damn contagious. “Hmm, a reddish rose.” She hums as she looks at it.

Anya nods and doesn’t reveal the meaning behind the burgundy rose. She has been giving Clarke a rose each morning for a while now. At first it used to be roses that resemble friendship, nothing more. Recently she’s been giving roses with different meanings. Her friend thinks she merely likes roses in a purely decorative manner, but that’s not quite right.

Clarke studies the rose. It’s a burgundy rose. When you meet someone who is so absolutely beautiful, but they don’t realize how stunning they are. They could be beautiful in an unusual or unconventional way. They could be so lovely, thoughtful and full of energy that you couldn’t help but notice them. Those people deserve a burgundy rose for their unconscious beauty. That’s the meaning of this particular rose. She has been wondering for a while if Anya selects roses randomly or if there is more behind it than that. So far she hasn’t let her friend know of her knowledge. She admires each rose quietly.

Anya takes a bite from her breakfast. “Aren’t you going to eat your pancakes?” She can see that Clarke is still staring at the rose. It’s beautiful to watch her friend in those small moments where Clarke doesn’t know that she’s being watched. Those moments feel more real. People tend to be more true to who they are when they think nobody is watching them.

Clarke snaps her attention away from the rose. “Oh yes, I’m going to eat.” She takes a bite from her pancakes. “This is delicious, as always. My compliments to the chef.” She winks teasingly at Anya. “I think I’ll be home today.”

“Oh.” Anya is surprised. “No plans with Lexa then?”

Clarke shakes her head. “Nah, Lexa has been sticking quite a bit to Costia. It’s better if I simply move on, you know?” She shrugs.

“I don’t get what Lexa sees in Costia. Not that she isn’t easy on the eyes because she is, but has Lexa opened her eyes to look at you, I mean really look at you?” Anya can’t believe how Lexa could ever choose Costia over Clarke. It’s insane. “Costia can’t hold a candle to you.”

“What a shame, Lexa loves candles.” Clarke jokes with an amused smile on her face. “If only Costia would know how to hold a candle.”

Anya laughs. She loves Clarke’s strange sense of humor and what she also loves is her friend’s horrible puns.

“So you’re saying that I’m beautiful then?” Clarke asks curiously. She leans her elbows on the kitchen table and stares at Anya intently.

“Of course you’re beautiful.” Anya’s reply is fast, she doesn’t miss a beat. “You’re also smart, cute, funny, your smile is perfect, your laugh is like a sweet melody and it’s contagious and-” She stops gushing about Clarke and her cheeks turn scarlet. She fell right into that one. “Well, you know, you have good qualities.” She tries to play it off cool.

Clarke’s smile reaches up to her ears. Anya’s behavior and the roses she receives make her wonder. Could it be possible that her friend…? No, she’s probably wrong. Sometimes she’s really bad at reading people. Anya is her best friend and that makes them close. That’s all there is to it.

The next morning there is a blush pink rose on Clarke’s tray.

Clarke holds it up between her index finger and her thumb. “A pink rose. It’s beautiful.” She smiles at Anya. “Thank you for breakfast, again and for the rose.”

Anya smiles back at Clarke and watches silently as her friend seems to admire the rose. If only she could freeze moments like this and watch Clarke for hours. That may seem a bit creepy, but she would be perfectly content to keep watching her friend like this, so pure and sincere.

Clarke looks at the blush pink rose. A rose like this stands for admiration. Giving a rose like this to someone means you appreciate and admire them. Whether it is their beauty, their wit, or their charms, a blush pink rose means that you hold the receiver in high regard. This rose makes her wonder even more if there’s more behind them. Once again, she bites her tongue and doesn’t say anything. She’ll keep her knowledge to herself a little while longer.

Anya remembers the day she met Clarke and the blonde had suggested the two of them could go and eat something together, to get to know each other.

“Lost in your thoughts again, Anya?”

“I was remembering that day we went to eat something together.” There’s no way Anya will ever forget that. That’s the day they became friends and ever since that day, their friendship grew closer. “It was a good day.”

“Oh god, I remember.” Clarke chuckles and shakes her head. “The food was awful.”

“When the waiter asked us how the food was, you said ‘olive the food here’ and that look he gave you, god I wish I’d had taken a picture.”

“As if I’m that bad.” Clarke retorts. “You said ‘really raisin the roof here, why have I never bean here before, peas Clarke, tell me why?’ and that waiter looked so deeply offended, I thought he was going to pop a vein. Did you see the big one in his neck, growing as his face turned red from anger?”

“We did leave in a hurry after that. It looks like we’ll never know if he popped that vein or not.”

Clarke loves to reminiscence about things like this. “Don’t forget that time where we went to a teahouse.”

“I’d never forget that. You had the tiniest tea bag and when you placed it into your cup of hot water you said ‘you will be mist’.”

“That was completely valid though, that water was way too hot. It was boiling. You told that waitress there that our tea was teariffic.”

“I couldn’t let you spout out terrible puns on your own, Clarke. As your friend, I was backing you up.”

“Oh, of course. How thoughtful of you.”

A few mornings later Clarke finds a blue rose on her tray. She bites her bottom lip hard. “A blue rose. This one is very beautiful.” She smiles at Anya, as she always does. “Thank you.”

Anya pretends to be very interested in a magazine she’s holding. It feels risky to give Clarke a blue rose. Luckily though, her friend has no idea about the meaning behind each rose. It would be unnerving otherwise.

Clarke picks the rose up. A blue rose is elusive, difficult to find. It represents the unattainable or the mysterious. A blue rose embodies the desire for the unattainable, the desire to be with someone whom you cannot have. A blue rose says I can’t have you, but I can’t stop thinking about you. This time she struggles to not say anything at all. This really can’t be a coincidence anymore. Anya must have gotten out of her way to obtain this particular rose.

When they finish their breakfast, Anya moves towards the sink to do the dishes. The water is running when she feels arms wrapping around her waist. It startles her slightly. “Clarke?”

Clarke takes a deep breath. She’s taking a leap here. If she’s wrong about this, it can turn out to be very embarrassing, but if she’s right then this will go a whole different direction. She leans closer towards Anya to whisper in her ear. “Who says you can’t?” She knows she’s giving her knowledge away now.

Anya turns around to look at Clarke. “Who says I can’t what?” She’s confused. Her friend is standing close.

Clarke daringly takes a step closer, backing Anya up against the sink. Her breath ghosts over her friend’s cheek. “Maybe I can’t stop thinking about you either.” She caresses Anya’s cheek with the back of her index finger.

Anya gulps audibly. This can only mean one thing. “You… know?” Clarke knows about the roses. She always thought her friend didn’t know what they all meant. “Have you always known?”

Clarke blushes and nods. “I enjoy silently admiring them. At some point I was going to tell you, but when the colors were changing, I grew curious, so I kept it to myself, up until now.”

Anya regains her confidence. She softly tucks a lock of Clarke’s hair behind her ear. “You are my blue rose, Clarke.” Her friend is the one she can’t stop thinking about and whom she always thought she couldn’t have. Falling for Clarke was never her intention, but her heart thought otherwise.

Clarke presses their foreheads together. “How long?”

“It began when we had dinner together for the first time.” Anya admits earnestly. “I tried not to, but I couldn’t help it.”

“I have feelings for you too, Anya.” Clarke blushes deeply. Her heart is beating faster at their close proximity.

Anya fists her hands in Clarke’s shirt and pulls her friend flush against her chest. Their lips meet in a kiss filled with passion, desire and love. She parts her lips and seeks entrance with her tongue, entrance Clarke is easily granting her.

Clarke smiles against Anya’s lips and pulls her friend closer. “You’re my dark red rose, Anya.” She winds her arms tightly around Anya. “A dark red rose, stormy passion. It signifies burning desire and the volatility of the heart. Roses that are especially dark red have the power to sweep you off your feet.” That’s what her friend is doing to her. “When you kiss me, my knees go weak.”

“I don’t think we can be friends anymore, Clarke.” Anya meets Clarke’s lips again. Her heart is drumming in her chest. “Will you be mine?”

Clarke jumps into Anya’s arms and kisses her deeply, hoping that is enough to say that yes, she will be Anya’s.

Anya eagerly welcomes Clarke in her arms as their tongues dance around, finding a passionate rhythm. “I love you, Clarke.”

“I love you too, Anya.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I have been shipping Clanya because of how I wrote them in 'The perfect kind of right', so I just had to write this to ship them together.


End file.
